Butterfly
by laharl
Summary: A confusing fic I wrote once late at night, listening to the X anime soundtrack and thinking about Kouga Yun's amazing manga,


It began.  
  
The night leapt to meet him, longing tendrils curling around shaking ivory. The wind whipped his breath behind him, to the other, whilst something else whipped away the warmth, leaving only cold, terror-stricken numbness. Wet trainers stumbled through moonlit puddles, the splash a dagger in the dark and the water clinging hands to close around his ankles. His chest rose and fell erratically as he fled through the streets, his grey coat flapping soundlessly, the occasionally white strip flicking out from his sleeve, revealing a tender hint of crimson.  
  
And still he followed, he was followed. The streets around him no longer existed, instead only a silent, deadly world where every shadow hid an even deeper darkness, and as he dashed through the night each footstep was echoed with another's. He half turned his head to look behind him, dreading to see the sable cloth and frost- touched skin catching up, the hard glint in the hazel eyes, the scent of honey and snow. As his eyes skipped over the soulless road behind him, he suddenly felt his feet collide with the kerb, and he instinctively pushed his arms out to break his fall.  
  
The air caught his overcoat, and in an instant the sleeve of his jacket was above his elbow, loosened bandage trailing in cream and scarlet ribbons, instantly soaked in the polluted milky pools collected in the uneven troughs in the pavement. His forearms fell heavily onto the unforgiving tarmac, the jolt shaking his frail, child-like form. A shuddering gasp escaped pale lips, and arrows of electricity coursed through the left side of his body, freezing his sodden jean-covered leg. It dazed his mind, opened a hole, a void, for the feeling unflinching fingers and their glinting dreaming eyes. Instantly he convulsed, sensing those eyes, those angry, vicious eyes, touching him, searching him for his weak spot, finding it.  
  
The roughness of the street, the torqued pulse in his forearm, the terror of the clouded night, all melted away, into obscurity. He was surrounded by eyes, beautiful, terrible eyes... all silver, like the moon, like snow, except for one pair. So radiantly they shone, they overpowered all the others, each icy circle sharply blinking, once, twice, into nothingness, the amber beauty of one pair far surpassing the rest. He could not help but be drawn to the arcane, lethal glint in those eyes, as a small metallic sound resounded around him, loudening, while summer nights echoed in his mind.  
  
Then, at once, she came.  
  
Red and black and silver, fluttering delicate wings, fading in and out of existence in the subconscious of the world. The mirror broke- shards, jagged shards, tumbled down on him, cutting him, his face, his mind. He curled into a ball, strange blue buildings bursting before him, then disappearing instantly, leaving him in blackness. He felt a danger pressing in on him; he looked up, saw the tumbling sliver of glass, but could do nothing. His body was paralysed as her wings continued their hypnotic dance above him, ochre eyes screaming as she rippled into the abyss. The mirror slid deeply into his arm, and at once he felt the muscle part, the artery rent, the wintry splinter gently prick the bone. The butterfly wept her aerial tears, and the image faded.  
  
The void closed, and the world snapped back into view. A rain drop shattered on his untouched cheek, and his mind once more erected the barrier between him and them. The trailing dressing coiled plaintively in the puddle in which he lay, his coat saturated and heavy. Trembling, he pulled himself to his feet and lurched forward, whirling madness opening its arms in a kamikaze embrace.   
  
The moonlight cast his shadow down the empty road, forever chasing its master, doomed never to catch him. Noiselessly a second silhouette joined it, leathered foot and caped shoulders strangely resistant to the watery light thrust upon it.   
  
And frosted lips smiled, raven hair whisked back in a cool wind. The sound of church bells wailed quietly through the deserted path.  
  
And amber eyes gleamed. 


End file.
